


Paranoia Fighter

by cali_sunshine



Category: Super Smash Brothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 22:23:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16941810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cali_sunshine/pseuds/cali_sunshine
Summary: After Shulk is backed into an emotional corner, a terrible attack leaves the familiar town spiraling into theories and rumors. Cloud and Bayonetta attempt to shut this down before it grows too big.





	Paranoia Fighter

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Paranoia Agent](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/439488) by Satoshi Kon. 



> i got way too inspired after seeing paranoia agent... so i wrote a thingy for it!  
> please enjoy, i apologize in advance for any grammar or spelling issues  
> this is NOT a frame by frame retelling of the anime! the concept is what i was inspired to use!!!!

“Shulk,” His boss began to speak to him. “This design, especially coming from someone like you,” The middle-aged man held up a thin sheet of paper covered in writing and rushed robotic designs for engines. “This is simply shit.”

Shulk stared at the man standing in front of him in the four-story-high office, the faint light glowing through the windows to contrast with the dark circles comfortably sitting under his blue eyes. His boss started up again, staring back down at the thin paper.

“You’re practically the best engineer here,” The compliment didn’t phase the unblinking Shulk. “You’ve gotta be better than this. Go home, come back with a better design than whatever this is. Or I’ll find someone else to take your place.” The paper was shoved back into Shulk’s arms, he looked down at it, the design smudged from the dirty fingers of his boss. “You must have been a one-hit wonder.” And with that, his boss walked away. Leaving Shulk in the darkening office. 

He couldn’t help but stare on at the cream-colored walls ahead, separated only by short cubicles that sat empty from the lack of employees. He blinked, slowly, letting the darkness of his eyelid wrap his vision up into a tight blanket until it let go and reminded Shulk he was in the real world. He had to get home. He had to work. He had to… he had to… he had to…

His feets scraped against the office floor as he began his walk to his small and remote apartment. The cold metal of the elevator button radiated softly onto Shulk’s drooping fingers as he pressed the simple buttons to return home, ready for the walk on brick sidewalks. 

As he pushed open glass doors that seemed to get heavier with each day, Shulk was greeted to the lukewarm air and cloudy sky. He looked up to the clouds, the familiar color of gray washing over him. A familiar face, Peach, bumped into him quickly while hurridly practically dragging her adopted son Lucas by his hand as she worriedly glanced down at him then up at the street. She let out a whispered “Excuse us, sir, we are late.” Shulk paid no mind to it despite it being from such a royal woman, for as of recent it had been him knocking into his spotted acquaintances. “Don’t worry about it Mrs. Toadstool.” He replied, a tiny smile worn as she hurried without hearing him.

The walk home continued, short and drawn out as Shulk continued to drag his boots against the bricks and moss sitting in between. Bicycles and cars passed him as Shulk made it to the halfway point. His favorite part of the walk home. He took time to take in the details, continuing the little shimmy. Dim street lamps, growing green plants that sat in large boxes against concrete walls to protect oncoming homes from privacy invasion. So full of peace.

The plants were gone as Shulk checked his watch, realizing it was already 5 PM. He blinked hard, taking a deep breath as he kept his eyes tightly shut. They opened in a quick shot, and Shulk began to diligently walk back to his home. He passed small homes full of people he hadn’t spoken to in weeks.  _ “I’m very busy…”  _ He would tell them after being given an invitation,  _ “You know how work can be, haha!”  _ He chose to forget disappointed yet understanding expressions worn by them. After a while, they stopped giving him invites. His mailbox filled with nothing but taxes.

The glossy glass doors of the apartment complex greeted Shulk in a backhanded way. They beckoned him to come inside and relax, yet he knew there was no time to do so. They opened heavily, pushing back against him as the white and black tiled floor shone into his eyes. He spotted the elevator and met the soft cold of the metal buttons again as he headed to his home, sitting on level 11. The doors opened with a tiny “bing!” and softly shifted open, allowing the working man to step into the carpeted hallway and finally into his room.

A wave of relief washed over Shulk’s body as he let the leather bag droop off his shoulder and into his hand, closing the apartment door behind him with a gentle hold of the doorknob. Work wasn’t over. He walked over to a small chair resting in the corner of the room, sitting down with a thump as his bag hit the floor beside him. Shulk grabbed out paper, pencils, and his old failed designs. A sigh escaped his lips, staring down at his smudged work. 

He reached out to the lamp on his left to switch it on, the yellow light shining brightly in the contrast of the now blackened sky showing from his square windows. Shulk’s grip tightened on the pencil as he placed the paper on the bag and stared. Finally, ideas came, and his hand worked beautifully across the paper, gliding with each stroke of design and thought that went into the robotic creations. One blueprint was finished just like that. Shulk stared at it, holding it up and dropping his pencil. 

His grip tightened before the paper was crumpled into a tight ball and tossed to the side. Not good enough. He had to be better than this. His foot lay impatiently next to little pieces of wrappers and gadgets that were left on the floor. Another idea joined them, thrown to the side. Then another, another again, and more after that. Nothing was good enough.  _ He  _ wasn’t good enough. It was then that a familiar voice spoke to him. 

 

_ A tiny robotic gadget that was placed with care behind the lamp crawled across the table it lived upon with wire arms, eyes made of little white paint splots Shulk had left after the planning stage accompanied by pupils made of Sharpie dots. Shulk stared at his paper, the little metal creature shakily crawled its way off the table and onto the paper full of pencil marks and eraser shavings.  _

_ “Design stage?” Its cutesy voice spoke. Shulk glanced up from his sketch and at the creation.  _

_ “I… I don’t think I can create something good enough,” Shulk stated bluntly, his voice quiet.  _

_ “Sure you can!” It cheerily said, wires raised like celebrating arms. “You created the best engine in the country!”  _

_ Shulk stared, his eyes stinging.  _

_ “Here.” The metal crawled its way into his backpack, digging through papers until it found a laminated blueprint and slowly crawled back out. “Look at this, this had to have been designed by a genius.” _

_ “But boss said-” _

_ “He didn’t design this. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” It retorted, wires raised again. “You’re working for people who don’t know anything about this design!”  _

_ “...” _

_ “Everything will be okay.” _

_ “... Yeah.” Shulk sniffled. “You… are right.” _

_ If a chunk of metal could smile, it would be doing so at this moment. Shulk himself gained a restless smile, grabbing the little piece of metal and getting out of his seat. “I don’t need to work on this tonight. I’m going… I’m going to get myself dinner!” Shulk’s previously forming tears froze into cold and hard determination. _

_ “That’s the spirit!” The metal cheered, being placed gently back onto the table as Shulk began to get ready for a night of well-earned sushi.  _

 

He slid on his leather shoes quickly, patting the back pocket of his dress pants to be sure his wallet was with him. Dinner was waiting for him, ready to give him the energy he needed from so many skipped meals this week. He grabbed the doorknob roughly and yanked it open, beginning to walk quickly yet professionally across the carpeted hallways to the metal elevator. The ground floor button was pressed, and as soon as Shulk got out of the elevator he rushed out of the apartment lobby and into the empty streets.

The sky had gone fully dark, brick roads he had seen in gray lit faintly with the oil colored light spilling from old street lamps. The rhythmic tapping of his leather shoes against the bricks was all that was heard as the townspeople were in their homes, sleeping or spending time with family. 

Already halfway there, Shulk stopped walking so fast. His favorite part was back in his site, beautiful plants, and a wonderful calmness. The street lamps flickered softly as he sniffed elegant purple flowers that sat in the box. The smell of the flowers overtook him until a thought hit his mind.

… 

…

...

What was he supposed to do? Was Shulk to show up to work tomorrow empty handed and get fired from his unforgiving boss? He needed the money. This was a mistake, a horrible mistake. He didn’t deserve to leave for dinner tonight. He deserved to continue working. 

Slight hesitance plagued Shulk’s movements as he turned on his heel, beginning the walk back to home. His panicked thoughts caused him to grow shaky in overwhelming stress. It was then, in the middle of the street, Shulk saw something in the dirty yellow light.

A young boy wearing a red cap was rollerblading on yellow skates, quickly traveling straight towards him. He held something in his hands, a bent metal bat. Shulk was sitting on the bricks at this point, the moss brushing against his clean dress pants as he stayed there, a panicked mess. The boy grew closer, revealing black curly hair that faintly poked out from the cap. Closer, closer, closer.

The boy was in front of Shulk, who sat crying on the sidewalk. The skates stopped, the bat was raised.

 

THUNK, SPLAT, THUMP.

 

The last Shulk could hear from that night was the sound of small wheels carrying someone down the street.

**Author's Note:**

> woah! i wanna say beforehand that each chapter will follow someone new, while checking in occasionally on others... i hope you enjoyed! thank you very much for reading  
> feel free to comment  
> my twitter is @cala_sunshine


End file.
